Chapter Text
She’s seen that look on Tony’s face before.
“T’Challa told Ross what you did, so…they’re coming for you.”
She’s heard that tone of voice before, too. She knows there’s nothing she can do to change his mind, but that doesn’t stop her from giving him a final warning.
“I’m not the one who needs to watch their back.”
Walking away is the smartest thing she can do. Her mind immediately starts bouncing from idea to idea on where to go from here. There are a few things she’s certain about- she needs to leave the base and change her appearance as soon as possible.
Any of the places that she could have gone to are now compromised, leaving her with minimal options. She decides to get herself packed first, which takes less time than she imagined. Realizing that she’s not the only one Ross will be looking for, she grabs a large box full of items from both Steve’s and Wanda’s rooms. She took only the things that looked important- Steve’s dog tags that were laying on his dresser, the slightly frayed sweatshirt that used to be Pietro’s hanging on the back of Wanda’s computer chair, pictures from both of their rooms.
The trunk of her black Audi full, she gets in the car and leaves the base, not looking back. She drives for an hour before finding a small town to stop in for the night. The motel she stays at isn’t great, but it will do. There’s a twenty-four hour diner in town for her to grab take out from, allowing her to remain unseen, for the most part.
The list of things she needs to do is long, so she begins to prioritize. Hitting the bank the next day is first on her list. Moving money to her alias account is significant, since it’s an account no one knows about. She’ll also take out a substantial amount of cash, enough to help her get much further away from New York before having to use her other credit and debit cards.
Next on the list is going to the store for supplies. Scissors, gloves, and blonde hair dye are at the top of her shopping list. She’s grown fond of her curly auburn locks, but they are a dead giveaway.
She carries out the next day as planned, rounding it out by driving another two hours before stopping for the night.
Stepping out of her room the day after, she runs her fingers through her short blonde hair. It feels different, and she feels different, almost not recognizing her own reflection as she catches it in her rearview mirror. Heading to the local car dealer, the owner is more than happy to help her trade her beloved Audi for an older jeep.
She gets a burner phone to use, too, though there’s no one she can currently call. She’s dying to call Laura and check in, but she has no doubt Laura already knows something went wrong. The odds are slim that she would answer a call from an unidentified number.
Just because she can’t call doesn’t mean she’s not going to do anything. Helping Laura and the kids pack and relocate temporarily is the least she can do. She doesn’t think Ross will sink that low, to go after Clint’s family, but it was part of Clint and Laura’s back up plan ever since Cooper was born. The farmhouse would continue to be theirs, and they could move back once things were safe again.
Staying one more night at the same hotel (which she normally tries not to do while on the run), she is up and out by eight in the morning, heading towards Ohio. Since it’s a weekday, the roads are thankfully clear. Making sure she stops for lunch and a bathroom break, it’s a little before two p.m. when she pulls into the Barton’s driveway. Driving down the dirt road, she sees Clint’s old truck parked at the house next to another truck she doesn’t recognize.
Her mind goes on high alert, wondering if Ross already sent someone, but there are no signs that anything is out of order.
Climbing out of her jeep, she heads up the steps onto the porch, before knocking on the front door. After a few moments, she hears a click and watches the door crack open, revealing a set of big dark blue eyes.
“Auntie Nat!”
There’s Lila, opening the door wider and throwing her arms around Natasha’s waist.
“Hey there!” she greets, returning the hug, “How are you?”
Lila steps back, allowing Natasha to come in.
“We’ve been busy packing. Mom said we need to go to the cabin for a little bit.”
She can hear the slight confusion in Lila’s voice at their sudden need to leave.
“Sadly, she’s right,” Natasha confirms. “Speaking of your mom, where is she?” she asks, glancing around.
Lila’s cheeks redden, her eyes quickly looking down.
“She’s in the kitchen. I don’t think she heard you knock.”
Putting the pieces together, Natasha now understands the guilty look on her niece’s face.
“Lila, honey, you really do need to let your mom get the door. It’s for your safety.”
If it had been someone else and not her…she shudders thinking about it.
“I’m sorry,” Lila whispers, “I won’t do it again.”
Natasha smooths a hand over the girl’s hair and smiles.
“It’s our secret then. I’m going to find your Mom to see what I can do to help.”
Natasha knows the layout of the house better than her own apartment. When she had personal time off, this is where she would come to get away. It all looks the same, she notes, as she walks down the short hallway that leads into the dining room and kitchen. Photos hang on the wall of all three kids at various ages, as well as a few of Clint and Laura and one of the entire family. Making the last turn, she’s stopped in her tracks by the figure she sees leaning against the opening to the dining room. Just beyond the figure, she sees Laura sitting at the kitchen table.
“-if you think you…” Laura’s voice catches as her eyes meet Natasha’s.
“Nat?” she says in disbelief, standing up from the chair she was sitting in.
She’s having a difficult time answering, still rooted in place, even as the figure turns in her direction.
“Nat?” she hears again, this time in a much deeper voice.
Steve’s looking at her like a man in the desert who has seen a mirage, almost as if he’s not quite sure she’s real. She’s normally not at a loss for words, but when she opens her mouth to respond, nothing comes out.
Steve must not need her reassurance because in seconds, he’s in front of her, gathering her in his strong arms. Her body automatically responds, her arms securing themselves around his neck.
“You’re ok,” he whispers, his head bent down into her neck. “God, I’m so glad it’s really you. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.”
It’s quiet for a moment.
“The blonde is a nice surprise,” he adds, “though I’ll miss the red.”
Their bodies are pressed so close together that she can feel the deep exhale he lets out. His body relaxes against hers, which allows his arms to pull her in even tighter.
Still slightly in shock, she says the first thing that comes to mind.
“How are you even here?”
He chuckles at that, pulling back slightly so he can look at her.
“It’s a long story. Bucky’s now with T’Challa in Wakanda. T’Challa set up everything to get me here as soon as he could. I know where Clint and the others are, so my first thought was to check in on Laura and the kids.”
Of course. She shouldn’t have been surprised that Steve would make his team and their families, if they have one, a priority. Some of the story doesn’t add up, though.
“Wait, how did Bucky end up with T’Challa? I thought he was coming to stop you.”
Steve lets out another sigh, this one more resigned.
“He was, until he realized we had a common enemy. Both he and Tony came to Siberia. Nat, Tony and I…I don’t think we…”
She can tell he’s struggling to find the right words. If that’s the case, it must be pretty bad.
“Whatever happened, it will be ok,” she reassures him, her hand dropping from his shoulders to grip his biceps.
He nods once and she knows that he believes her. Steve has always put his faith in people, and he’s always had faith in her.
“And Nat, about what went down at the airport, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to fight against you. Honestly, you were the only one who could have stopped me.”
His eyes and tone are earnest, so much so that she can see how hard it still is for him to think of them fighting.
“I’m sorry, too,” she says. It’s unusual for her to get choked up, but it comes out raspy, the emotions from the past few days finally catching up to her.
Steve merely curls her body into his again. She’s not sure exactly how long they stand there until she hears someone clear their throat. Steve’s arms drop at the same time hers do. Glancing towards where the sound came from, she finds Laura near the kitchen sink. Knowing Laura, she had probably stepped away to give them some time to catch up.
“Laura! How are you holding up?” she asks, meeting her halfway to give her a hug.
“We’re ok, but I’m still worried,” Laura admits, pulling back. “I’m planning to move everything tomorrow. It’s been hard doing this alone, which I was until last night. Steve really helped us with the packing process.”
At this, she shoots Steve a grateful smile.
“I think we still have a lot to figure out,” she finishes, pulling out a kitchen chair.
Many hours later, after hashing out as much as they could about Laura’s future plans and what happened to everyone over the past three days, they finish packing up the rest of the belongings going with Laura to the cabin. They had stopped around five to eat dinner, since the kids were starting to get hungry.
The clock now chimes nine times, signaling the late hour. Laura and the kids had gone up to bed earlier, leaving Natasha and Steve to relax on the large couch in the living room. Just having Steve in her presence makes her feel safe, helps ease the tension she’s been carrying for days. She drapes her legs over his thighs, leaving no space between them. She hates to ask, since they finally have a minute to catch their breath, but…
“So, what happens now?” she questions, her eyes flicking up to meet his over the rim of her mug as she takes a sip of her tea.
“Well,” he starts, his fingers skimming over her jean clad leg in a constant motion, “I think I have a plan, if you’re up for it.”
He pauses for a moment, as do his fingers.
“But Nat,” he continues, his voice much softer and huskier than before, “if you wanted to get out now, I can’t blame you. You’ve done more than enough to clear your ledger.”
Her heart jumps at his words. Thinking it over for a minute, she realizes he’s right. And while he’s right, that she could leave all of this behind and start a new life somewhere, the hard pounding in her chest tells her what she already knew.
“It was difficult to walk away from you once. I can’t do it again.”
Her eyes duck down at her declaration, feeling more vulnerable than she would like. Instead, she focuses on the fingers she had playing with one of the buttons on Steve’s shirt sleeve. The silence is hard to bear, until she feels his fingers brush under her chin, forcing her to look up.
“I’m not sure I could have let you go,” he murmurs, his eyes boring into hers. His hand drops back to its spot on her thigh, resuming its previous activity.
“It’s a little bit of a crazy idea, but I think it might work. Then again, I feel like a good amount of our ideas are…unique,” he laughs.
Her lips quirk up in a quick smile.
“I don’t care if it’s something absolutely insane. You’re not doing it alone.”
His answering smile is all the response she needs.